


For the Rest of My Life

by UndyingEmbers



Category: Pathfinder: Kingmaker (Video Game)
Genre: Barbarian OC, F/M, Family Drama, Post Game, Recreational Drug Use, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19045369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndyingEmbers/pseuds/UndyingEmbers
Summary: A one-shot detailing Tristian and my Baroness's wedding and the events that lead up to it.





	For the Rest of My Life

**Author's Note:**

> So this originally started as a few events leading up to the wedding, then it spiraled into me vomiting absolutely everything about my character onto the word processor.
> 
> My OC is a Chaotic Good human barbarian. You will be hearing a lot about her backstory and about the choices she made for the kingdom.
> 
> Enjoy!

Katala knew from the start that she wanted to get married as soon as possible. Thankfully, once the war against the Lantern King was over, Tristian didn’t keep her waiting.

“I’ll take care of everything, don’t worry,” he had said.

“All right,” she had said. “But I also want to have a say in what happens at my own wedding.”

“Of course! I have a few ideas, but I promise I will ask your input on all the important things, though I do hope to keep some things a surprise.”

***

“Would you like a Caydenite priest at the wedding?” Tristian asked while he and Katala were going on a walk in the capital.

“Hell yes!” she said. “You also bringing in a Sarenrite priest?”

“That was my plan, yes,” he said. “I’ll contact the two churches when we get back to the castle.”

Tuxony, formerly known as The Stolen Lands before Katala had defeated the Stag Lord, was home to a wide variety of religions. Of course, Erastil has and always will maintain a powerful presence in her domain, and his faith showed no signs of stopping even after towns have been erected and borders have been drawn. Shrines to Desna were prominent along the roads. The church of Callistria was still going strong in Pitax. A host of local gods and cults were permitted to keep operating in the kingdom (which had led to quite a bit of tension between Jhod and the queen, which in turn caused him to sack him in favor of Harrim as High Priest). The goblins still worshiped Lamashtu. Sarenrae had somewhat of a following, but not much. The Dawnflower had at least one temple in the cities and a shrine or two in the towns, and the Sunwrought Festival was celebrated every year in the capital, but Sarenrae never truly became a power player in Tuxony. Despite Katala’s best efforts to foster caring among her subjects and protect their freedoms, not many people felt that the harsh lands had much room for mercy and redemption.

Of every deity, except for Erastil, Cayden Cailean was the most revered among her people. Once Tuxony became “civilized”, the Lucky Drunk became the de facto deity of urban and communal life. Temples and shrines dedicated to Cayden could be found in every settlement, taverns and orphanages everywhere bore his symbol, and people toasted in his honor almost every day. It didn’t hurt that Katala herself worshiped him; no one was going to turn away the queen’s god!

Caydenite weddings were rambunctious affairs to say the least. There was a lot of toasting involved, and, in extreme cases, everyone, especially the priest, was expected to get wasted before they even got to the vows. Some people consider their marriage to be blessed if the bride and groom can’t even remember getting married.

Katala didn’t know much about Sarenrite weddings, but she was pretty sure that they weren’t like that. She smiled as she wondered how Tristian would handle it.

***

Tristian and Maegar approached her in the throne room.

“My Queen,” said Tristian, “I would like to discuss the budget for our wedding. I was originally going to plan a more modest wedding; I think our funds should be used for the people, but after speaking with Maegar, he came up with a few points that I need your opinion on.”

Maegar stepped up. “Your Majesty, I understand Tristian’s concerns, but I think you should capitalize on this.” Despite leading a mercenary band for years, Maegar’s noble upbringing still crept into his speaking habits. “Royal weddings are a momentous occasion, and, if done right, a little grandeur could give the people cause for celebration. We could host a great feast, and give whatever is left to the poor. We could send musicians to every settlement in the kingdom to sing about your exploits. And think of the festival we could host in the capital! Merchants coming in from all over. And monkeys! We could have a grand circus come to the capital!”

Maegar calmed down a little before continuing. “Another thing to consider is that other kingdoms will want to be invited. If we do decide to have representatives come visit, they will expect a certain amount of luxury. However, we can also use the wedding let these nobles and diplomats talk about the wonder and might of our kingdom.”

“I can see the merits of your arguments, Maegar,” said Tristian, “but we must not forget that it wasn’t that long ago that the kingdom nearly got torn apart by a capricious Eldest. We still need to construct our buildings and our roads, take care of the wounded, give compensation to the families of our fallen soldiers, and train new guards to establish order. This will already be a heavy cost.”

Maegar’s face fell with sympathy. “Perhaps you should postpone the wedding until reconstruction is done.”

“It’s up to you, Katala,” said Tristian. “We could have a modest wedding now, but if you want something more grand, we should wait.”

Katala shifted from her slouching position on the throne. “The people need a pick-me-up after what they have been through. Maybe we can come up with something that does not involve monkeys…”

Eventually, they agreed on a proposal. Before the wedding, they would hold a parade as Katala rides through the city from the castle to the temple. The wedding itself would be a rather intimate affair, only inviting a handful of people. After that, they would have a festival celebrating the end of Nyrissa’s thousand-year curse over the kingdom.

But that would have to wait until reconstruction was over.

***

For the next few months, everyone was throwing themselves into reconstruction. Valerie spent a lot of time approving plans for cities, roads, and bridges. Maegar spent a lot of time financing them. Ekun and Amiri spent a lot of time getting everything back under control. The Storyteller vanished without a trace. Linzi sat on a display case in the throne room. Harrim preached about how pointless it all was. Katala involved in all of this (except the last three items), and she had to spend a lot of time hiring new advisors, as more than half of them were either gone or had plans to go elsewhere after reconstruction was finished.

“Of course, Reg and I will stay for the wedding,” said Octavia. “But can’t leave things the way they are in Numeria. I hope you understand.”

Fortunately, Katala’s old crew had done all the heavy-lifting before things got shot to hell. Her new advisors should have a relatively easy ride going forward.

Tristian worked himself nearly to death reassuring the people, healing the soldiers, and planning the wedding. One time, Katala found him in his office slumped over asleep on the desk. She lifted him up and carried him to their bedroom. He stirred and muttered a weak apology as she set him on the bed, but Katala kissed him on the brow and held him close. He fell back asleep in her arms.

***

The next item on the list was the appointment with the court tailor. Sharel bowed and tripped over himself as he entered the fitting room, a sketchpad under his arm.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “I would like to say congratulations on your betrothal. I wish you and your consort all the happiness in the world. It has always been a great honor working for you, and I am forever grateful for all the opportunities you have given me.” He was rambling, but Katala could tell his enthusiasm was genuine. Though the tailor’s smile was a nervous one, his eyes shone with excitement.

“Thanks, Sharel!” Katala smiled brightly, patting him hard enough on the back that his knees buckled. “What’cha got there?”

Sharel set the sketchpad on a nearby table. “I have a few designs for the wedding dress.” He started flipping through the sketchpad. “Of course, we have the traditional Brevan wedding dresses. This one is based on what Chraol the Conqueror’s bride wore. I also have a few designs that take your Ulfen heritage into account. Here’s this one from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings…”

Katala listened as he went on. None of what he was showing clicked with her, and Sharel was getting more and more visibly nervous. His hands shook, and he was speaking more quickly.

“Hey, relax,” she said. “I’m not going to throw you in the dungeon just because I don’t like the dress.”

Her joke did not at all help to calm him down. “I…I know, but I’ll never get another opportunity to do a royal wedding, and if it’s not exactly perfect, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Okay, okay,” said Katala, holding up her hands. “Let’s just see if there are any designs you can do. Maybe something that makes me look more…powerful? I have nothing against dresses, but I feel that I want to look less like a bride and more like a queen.”

Sharel flipped through the sketchpad until he got to a blank page and started drawing frantically. Katala paced around behind him, giving unhelpful advice such as, “I want to look strong. Don’t forget what an awesome warrior I am,” or, “Make sure it’s not too frilly,” or, “I want to be the essence of boldness.” Sharel didn’t seem too bothered, though, and before long, he was able to produce a new sketch.

Katala whistled. “Beautiful! Oh, the Tiger Lords gave me a mantle made of snowy owlbear fur. Do you think you could add it in?”

Sharel went back to sketching. The dress did look rather magnificent.

“Now the colors.” Sharel ran into his storage room to get his cloth samples. When he emerged, he came out with various shades of red and gold: bold colors for a bold dress. Katala laughed. He knew her too well.

***

“Who should we invite to the wedding?” Tristian asked Katala over lunch.

“Definitely our party members and advisors,” she said. “We should probably invite Jhod, since you are still close to him.” She paused to think. “Definitely Elina and Evindra. We should probably tell Maegar that he can bring his General, since they’re planning their own wedding. Jamandi is still pissed off at me. We can at least send an invitation, I guess. We should probably also invite some of our unusual vassals like Tartuk or Armag.”

“Our allies will not be happy if we invite kobolds and goblins to the wedding and not them,” said Tristian.

“The kobolds and goblins risked their lives to defend the kingdom,” said Katala. “They deserve to be honored as any other vassal.”

“I’ll work with your High Diplomat to smooth things over,” said Tristian. “What about your family?”

Katala had not seen her dads face to face since she had left her village in Brevoy. They wrote, but they never once visited her in her new kingdom, and she never invited them.

Tristian put his hand on hers. “It has been years. Don’t you think you can find it in your heart to forgive them?”

“Maybe,” said Katala. “I don’t know. I do miss them, though.” She squeezed his fingers. “Invite them. I don’t see why not.”

When Tristian asked if they should invite Stefano Moskoni, Katala backtracked on her earlier statements and decided that maybe they don’t need to invite any of their vassals after all.

***

Katala’s fathers arrived at court. She and Tristian greeted the two Ulfen druids in the throne room. One man was huge, pale-skinned, and muscle-bound with a very blond and very ornately-braided beard and grey eyes. The other was tall, if not nearly as muscular as his husband or daughter, and had greying brown hair and a greying brown beard and was accompanied by a grand, majestic elk.

“Kat!” shouted Snorri, the muscular blond man who was Katala’s stepfather. “My little sproglet, it’s been so long!” He walked right up to Katala and trapped her in a bone-breaking hug.

Katala wrapped her arms around him and lifted him off the floor. “Hi, Snorri,” she said.

Calder, the dark-haired, stoic druid who was Katala’s biological father (her mother had been a Kellid woman who slept with Calder while her tribe migrated to Brevoy), bowed his head. “You’ve done well for yourself,” he said.

Katala put Snorri down and wrapped her arm around Tristian. “This is Tristian. I’m marrying him.”

“Greetings,” said Tristian. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” said Calder.

Snorri looked Tristian up and down. “That’s the one? Looks like a stiff breeze’ll break him in half. At least he’s cute.”

“Come,” said Katala, “I’ll have the servants break open the kegs!”

***

“And so!” Snorri shouted over dinner. Mugs of ale littered the able faster than the servants could clean them up and refill the drinks. Even Tristian was a little tipsy, though the deva mostly stuck with wine. “We were stuck with this little one.” The large druid patted Katala on the head with enough force that would pound a lesser man into a puddle of goo. “At the tail end of winter, mind you. A little babe waddled in cloth, and it occurred to us that we had no way of feeding her. So! We called upon nature itself to summon every nursing female animal in the enclave and fed her milk from every creature. Wolves, boars, elks, and bears! Especially bears. That’s why she’s so strong. Bear milk!”

Katala laughed. She had heard that story many times before. Trsitian listened with apt attention, a skeptical look on his face. Calder looked mildly amused.

“So anyway,” said Snorri. “What about you, Kat? Where did you manage to pick up this one?” He pointed at Tristian.

“Well,” said Katala. She and Tristian held hands over the table. “It took a very long time, and I had to rescue him from a bear, but I knew early on that I would never meet anyone like him, so I let him know in no uncertain terms that I wanted to be with him, and we just took it from there. Through everything else.”

Tristian smiled. “You are the ray of sunlight that conquers all darkness. I’m incredibly happy that you came into my life.”

“Well, good on you, Kat,” said Snorri. “I’ve always said that if you find yourself a fine lad, you should just scoop him up!” Snorri wrapped his arm around Calder and crushed his husband to his body.

Katala laughed weakly. This was so normal, too normal for her liking. A part of her would have almost preferred a fight, a confrontation, anything form of acknowledgement that they had wronged her. Tristian squeezed her hand. He smiled, but his face was lined with concern. She smiled back and kissed his hand.

“To Kat!” Snorri raised his cup. “May you have good fortune for the rest of your days.”

Everyone toasted. “You have come far, child,” said Calder.

“If you ask me, it’s about bloody time,” said Snorri. “After so many years, it feels good to be back together, eh?”

A completely harmless comment, but something in what Snorri had said caused Katala to snap. “So how are things back home?” she asked. “Did the village recover, or were you too busy meditating on boar farts to pay attention?”

Suddenly, everything got dead quiet. Katala glared at her fathers.

“Kat, the village was destroyed by bandits.” Snorri spoke carefully, so differently from his boisterousness earlier.

“And you did nothing,” said Katala.

“It was so long ago,” said Snorri. “We…”

“It’s all right, Snorri,” said Calder. “You and I both know our Kat. She’s always had a…”

“Don’t fucking say it!” she exclaimed, her muscles already tightening.

“Temperament,” Calder finished, completely nonplussed. A surge of anger ran through Katala, and she almost fell into a rage.

Almost.

Calder addressed Tristian. The deva looked torn between concern for his lover and wanting to be as far from this room as possible. “You know, Katala used to love the enclave,” said Calder. “The forest, the animals. When she was a girl, she wanted to be a druid, like her fathers. Sadly, she lacked the balance required to perform the sacred duties. Snorri and I used to call it her ‘temperament’. Whenever she acted up, we would say her temperament has got the better of her again. Though I had hoped that after all this time, she would understand that it is not our place…”

Katala stood up and threw her drink at her father. “Fuck your balance. If your ‘sacred duties’ involved letting innocent people die, then to the Abyss with you!

“You want to know what I’ve been up to?” she demanded. “I tracked those bastards down and killed them all. Then I tracked down more bandits and killed them too. I got so good at it that people started paying me to kill bandits. So, when the Aldori sent out word that a bandit gang was terrorizing people to the south, I jumped right on it. And you know what happened after that? Lives were saved. Things got better.”

“Katala.” Tristian stood and put a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we should retire for the evening.”

“You know what,” said Snorri. “That’s a brilliant idea. Thanks for dinner, Kat.” He hooked his arm around Calder and pulled him away.

 

“…even now, after all this time!” Katala paced around the bedroom, gesticulating wildly while Tristian sat on the bed and listened to her rant. She had done nothing else since they got back home from dinner.

“My ‘temperament’. Just an excuse not to take me seriously. Ever since I was a girl, it has always been, ‘stick to the enclave, everything has a purpose, it’s not for us to interfere, nature must run its course’ or some shit. I mean, we can’t interfere when children are dying, but gods forbid a leaf blow out of order.”

She plopped down next to the bed. “I’m sorry, Tristian. I just…ugh…I could not sit there and pretend nothing happened.”

Tristian rubbed her back. His relaxing touch helped her calm down somewhat. “I know. Though you can be a lot to handle, it’s also what I admire about you the most. When you see something wrong, you don’t hesitate to do something about it. Just remember that a kind word, or an opportunity for your enemies to redeem themselves is just a valid course of action as resorting to the blade.”

She sighed. “I know.” Though it hadn’t always been the case. Before she had met Tristian, she had thought that she could only solve her problems or change the world by finding the person responsible and beating the crap out of them. Even after she had met her kind-hearted priest, she would just smile and shake her head when he spoke of showing mercy and compassion to her enemies. A noble intention, she had thought, but one that had no bearing whatsoever on the real world.

And yet, he had shown her differently, that in order to be merciful, you had to be strong. It was too late for Kressle, but she had brought hope and healing to many people who had once tried to kill her because of the lessons she had learned from Tristian.

He kissed her neck. “Let’s go to bed. We still have a lot to do for the wedding.”

But Katala was too drunk and too restless to sleep just yet. “In a bit,” she said. “I need to go piss.”

 

She could have used any chamber pot in the castle, including the one in the bedroom she shared with Tristian, but she really needed to go outside to clear her head. She went into the courtyard to find a shrub where she could relieve herself. She was already starting to sober up from the walk and from the crisp night air.

After she was done taking care of business, she found Snorri loitering in one of the outdoor hallways. The druid smiled when he saw her, though his smile was much more muted than when he greeted her earlier that day.

“Evening,” he said.

“Evening,” said Katala. “Look, I’m really sorry about dinner.”

“No worries. We managed to get Calder cleaned up.” Snorri took a pipe and a pouch of herbs from his coat pocket. “Care to join me?”

“Sure,” said Katala. Snorri put the herbs in his pipe and lit it up, filling the courtyard with a very strong smell. It was a much more relaxed environment as Snorri and Katala smoked from the pipe. They giggled as Katala recounted her exploits in the Stolen Lands. Needless to say, she sounded much less epic than she thought she did.

“And that Vordakai,” she said. “I mean I know he was already dead, but it was still very epic when I fought him. You just got to wonder what’s the point, you know. You’re already dead, just go take a nap.”

“That’s liches for you,” said Snorri. “They’re very…lichy.”

“So anyway, anyway, there I was. Swords slashing, magic things happening. I was doing so well, and then…and then…”

Tristian.

“Kat,” said Snorri. “I need to ask you something. Things are tense in Brevoy. You got the Surtovas and Aldori making snipes at each other. People are scared. I’m trying to talk Calder into moving the enclave to Tuxony, but you know him…stubborn. So, I need you to invite him to your kingdom.”

“Really?” asked Katala. “Your neighbors get attacked and you don’t lift a finger, but some whispers are enough to get you scared.”

“Hey, you started this,” said Snorri. “That Jamandi. She made Tuxony so that there wouldn’t be fighting, right? And what do you do, you take your kingdom and leave them with a big mess. Like, there was fighting, and you did nothing.”

“Hey, there was nothing I could do,” said Katala. “Jamandi got so angry after the barbarians came in…”

“And that’s your problem,” said Snorri. “You’re a rouser, a firebrand. It’s like you can’t solve conflicts, you know. You can rile people up, but you’re garbage at reconciling them. You always have.”

It was a good thing she was feeling so mellow from the herbs, or she would have gone off again. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Brevoy, Old Sycamore, she wanted to make peace, but she never seemed to have what it took.

“I’ll think about your favor,” she said.

 

She accidentally woke Tristian when she fell into bed.

“Katala, are you all right?” he asked. “What’s that smell?”

“Tristian, I can always count on you to be honest with me, right?”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Do you think I’m a good Queen?” she asked. “I try so hard to do good, but people are always fighting, and I can’t make them stop.”

“What happened? What brought this on?” He sat up.

“The whole thing with Brevoy. It’s my fault isn’t it? Restov and Brevoy are going to war because I couldn’t stop it from happening. And Old Sycamore. I didn’t want to pick a side, but I had to, you know, because they wouldn’t stop fighting so I had to pick the mites, but I didn’t want to kill all those kobolds, you know. Everyone was innocent, but I had to kill those kobolds, but I didn’t want to.”

Tristian, bless him, listened patiently to her intoxicated rambling and held her hand as she got visibly upset. “I understand, I think, but you cannot blame yourself. They made the choice, and you did the best you could. In fact, your fallout with Restov was partly my fault. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have had to make that choice.”

“My dads used to say it was my temperament. I always hated that. But people had never got hurt because of me before.”

“Shh.” Tristian stroked her face. “If it had been someone else, would they have been able to do things that you could not? Maybe, but it is also true that you can do things that no one else can, and I have seen you do so much good. You gave Tartuk and his kobolds a home in your kingdom, you gave hope to the people afflicted with the Bloom and prevented a riot, and you helped so many people find redemption and healing. And if all that were not enough, you did the impossible and broke the hold Nyrissa had on the lands and gave the people here true peace. I know with all my heart that you are the best thing that happened to the Stolen Lands.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really. And if you get stuck on a decision, I will help you. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Tristian. I really hope you know that I appreciate everything you do, and I am so happy that you are here.”

Tristian laughed softly. “Of course.”

***

The days leading up to the wedding were some of the most exciting and tumultuous times of Katala’s life. Builders, musicians, merchants, cooks, jugglers, poets, diplomats, animals of various sizes all flooded the capital in preparation for the festival. Servants scuttled every which way to make the castle presentable. The guards worked around the clock to make sure things did not get out of hand. The castle also received an influx of important delegates. Even though very few people would attend the wedding itself, most other states wanted to at least have a presence in Tuxony when the queen got married.

Katala just could not wait for her wedding day. Now that the kingdom was no longer falling apart, she could look forward to a long and happy life with Tristian. She remembered being absolutely elated when Tristian had said yes.

The night before the wedding, she is especially passionate with him in bed. Neither of them could keep their hands off one another. Katala was just so damn happy to be with him, naked, making love until she was completely satisfied.

“To think,” said Tristian once he had caught his breath, “by this time tomorrow, I’ll be calling you my wife.”

“Imagine that,” said Katala. She stroked his hair. “Thank you for staying on Golarian with me and for everything you have done.”

“Thank _you_ for saving me and for letting me stay with you.”

“Say, Tristian. I’ve been thinking. Do you think you could find me after I die? If I end up in Elysium with my god, maybe…”

Tristian paused. “I never thought of it that way before,” he said. “I’ll try. No, I’ll do more than try. I will tear up world to find you, wherever you are, whoever you become.”

“Wait, what was that last part?” she asked.

Tristian smiled sadly. “The afterlife is not eternal. Depending on where you are sent, you could end up in a completely different body as a completely different person or creature with no memories of who you were in life.

“Elysium is not so bad. If a soul goes to Elysium, it will simply manifest as an ideal version of itself when it was alive with its memories and personality intact to enjoy the many pleasures the plane has to offer, but even then, it doesn’t last forever. No matter where a soul ends up, it will eventually become a denizen of the plane it was sent to. Most likely, souls in Elysium eventually turn into celestial natives called Azata, but exceptional souls could also potentially ascend into angels, like I did.”

“Yeah.” A part of her did wonder who Tristian had been before his soul was used to create an angel. Did he have a family? A lover? A life? Did someone miss him when his soul moved on?

“Just try,” said Katala. “I mean if I end up becoming someone else, and we can’t be together because of that. I want you to be happy. But…” She laughed softly. “Is it bad that I want us to stay together for as long as possible?”

Tristian touched his forehead to hers. “If it is, then I am just as guilty.”

***

Katala dreamed that she was in the First World again. In the distance, Nyrissa was battling the Tane again. Again, the creature struck her down, and again, the battle started anew. Again and again as it always did.

Every time, Katala would try to charge in and save her (every time she had that dream, she always appeared in the armor she had worn in the battle against the Lantern King), only to not make it in time, and every time Nyrissa was slain, Katala would be taken back to where she started, forced to watch again.

Katala knew she couldn’t leave things the way they were. When they had seen each other at the House at the Edge of Time, Katala had wanted so badly to redeem the fallen nymph. The barbarian queen saw so much of herself in Nyrissa’s story that she could not leave it to end like this. Katala remembered holding the Briar out to Nyrissa, pleading with her to accept it, and for a moment it had seemed like the nymph was going to, but then Nyrissa turned her cold eyes towards Tristian and rejected it.

But Katala never gave up, even though she knew that she would never return Nyrissa’s feelings. She had Harrim and Octavia dispatch their best priests and mages to find a way to remove Nyrissa’s curse. She kept the Briar close, always on her person or in a secret place where no one could find it, not even Tristian. Over and over again, she tried to save Nyrissa from the beast, even though it was possibly completely pointless. If she did nothing, then she would know for sure that it wouldn’t help.

Why not try the impossible?

***

On the morning of their wedding day, Katala rode off to start the parade. The stallion she rode was a huge block of brown and white piebald muscle. The saddle was elaborate, but sturdy, and the horse had minimal barding. Just like with Katala, her mount had minimal armor, instead relying on speed and general toughness to get through a battle.

For her wedding dress, she and Sharel had decided on a gold color to match the topaz ring Tristian had given her. The skirt was huge and wide with a lot of fabrics while the torso and arms were more tight to better show off her muscles. Around her waist she wore a knotted belt with a single amber bead in the middle. The fabric was very minimalistic with no patterns or embroidering, but it fit her perfectly, allowing her to show her own strength. A white fur mantle was wrapped around her shoulder, a gift from the Tiger Lords, and Sharel had sewn a long, white cloak to it and embellished the cloak with patterns of a leaping hound in the corners. Her dress and cloak had been enchanted to keep off dirt and keep her cool, which was fortunate, because otherwise it would have been hot as balls in that outfit.

Her hair was the same as it usually was: loose and flowing down her back with smaller braids entwined here and there. Except today it looked much, much nicer. The servants took upwards of an hour to wash, brush out the mats, and rebraid her hair. There was hardly a strand out of place, and it smelled like wild flowers. She wore the crown on her head, already feeling more regal.

She had a contingent of guards and musicians. Other members of her council accompanied her (Ekun was personally leading the guards), as well as other heroes who have distinguished themselves in the battle against the Lantern King, and, of course, her hound, Hunter walked beside her. That dog had grown enormous, almost the size of her horse, and was probably five times as strong.

A horn signaled the start of the parade, and Queen Katala and her contingent left the castle and rode out into the streets of Tuskdale. The roads she would take have been cleared out; the guards were busy trying to keep people out, but the citizens rushed out to see the queen. They cheered as she passed by, throwing flowers in her path.

Valerie rode beside the queen. After about half an hour of men throwing flowers and love letters at her, she had lowered the visor on her helmet. She wore a full suit of armor, and her horse had a full barding. Together, they looked like a knight and lady…if the lady was one of the most muscular women in Golarian and the knight’s grace and elegance could make celestial beings jealous.

“I admit I had some misgivings when I first met you,” said Valerie. “And we may not have agreed on everything, but I am proud to have helped in your endeavors, my Queen.”

“Likewise,” said Katala. “But know that I’ve always been glad that you were around to curb some of my worst ideas. Sometimes.”

Katala had no idea how it worked out between her and Valerie. The two of them had butted heads many times since the start of Katala’s reign (the look on Valerie’s face when she found out that the kingdom would have kobold vassals was priceless). Probably the reason it ended up working out so well was because they both hated bandits. When it came to which noble should own what or whether they really needed to enforce that outdated law, it was always a battle, but when it came to bandits, both women agreed that they needed to come down _hard_. Once the dust settled, though, Katala was actually glad that Valerie was around to keep things in order, while Valerie had to admit that the kingdom was a lot better off now than it was before.

***

Tristian waited at the temple of Sarenrae near the capital’s park. He had spent all morning getting everything ready and trying to distract himself from his excitement, but there was only so much he could do now that the wedding had practically started. The bells had rung almost two hours ago, signaling the start of the parade. She would be here soon.

All the guests who weren’t involved in the parade had been welcomed and seated. Calder and Snorri sat in the front, dressed in their best druid robes, Calder wearing a wooden crown that marked him as an archdruid. Their companions were here: Jubilost, Harrim, Regongar and Octavia, Jaethal, Kalikke, and Nok Nok. The goblin was chewing on one of the candles in the back. Linzi lay open on a display case near the altar. Elina was present, along with Maegar Varn and a half-elven woman named Irissil who Tristian knew to be Maegar’s betrothed and former General. Jhod took a few moments to talk to Tristian.

“Nervous, my boy?” the old priest asked.

“A little,” said Tristian. “Mostly excited.”

Jhod smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “I may not agree with our queen most of the time, but she is a good woman. I know in my heart that the two of you will be very happy.”

“Thank you, Jhod, your friendship has been a blessing to me.”

The doors opened, everyone instinctively looked back, but it was only Valerie and Ekun who entered. Valerie took off her helmet and took a seat near the front. Elina waved Ekun over and put her arm around his when he sat down next to her. Members of the Caydenite priesthood distributed wineskins to the guests. Not surprisingly, the wine would have a ceremonial purpose.

Trumpets could be heard from outside. Tristian’s heart pounded. She was here!

The doors opened again. Katala was absolutely radiant, even against the bright light coming in from outside. Tristian straightened his priest’s robes. As he heard her footsteps come closer, he couldn’t help but smile. He had been looking forward to this moment ever since she had proposed. He only hoped that this wedding was everything she had wanted.

She approached the altar, slowly like they had practiced, but Tristian could tell that she was chomping on the bit to get to him. She radiated pent-up energy and excitement and love. If it were up to him, he would run up to her and hold her in his arms forever, but he was stuck in place, completely awestruck, and his feet as if they were stuck in place.

When she walked up to him and took his hands in hers, he felt some of her glow seep into him, filling him from head to toe. She smelled so much like the flowers that grow around the Shrike Hills. The timing was perfect; the windows allowed the temple to be filled with the noon light.

The priestess of Sarenrae, a Kellish woman in ornate gold and blue robes started the ceremony.

“In the blessed light of the Everlight, we bear witness to this most momentous occasion…” she said. She continued the prayers, and Tristian could feel the presence of his Goddess in every sunbeam. For those precious moments, a sliver of Her divine light permeated his being. Tristian had forgotten that Sarenrae was present at every wedding presided by Her faithful. He hadn’t meant to use the wedding as an excuse to commune with his Goddess, but it felt so wonderful to have Her smile on him again.

“And now for the wedding vows,” said the priestess. “Your Majesty, if you will.”

“Tristian,” said Katala, “never have I met anyone so noble in spirit. Throughout my journey, you have been my guiding light, a constant companion who I could count on for healing and support. You helped me see the light when before there was anger and rage. I swear to stand by you and protect you and cherish each moment with you until the end of my days. I will give this marriage everything I’ve got, because you are worth everything to me.”

“Every moment with you has been a blessing, Katala,” said Tristian. “When I was lost and broken, it was your light that brought be back to life and faith. You are a force of nature, the fire that burns and cleanses and warms, and I am forever drawn to you. I swear to remain ever faithful and to love and support you until fate brings us apart, and even then, I will do everything in my power to keep us together.”

The Caydenite priest, a portly Taldan man with a jovial face, opened the bottle of wine he had prepared. “Now if everyone will raise their wineskins (that is, if you’ve left any wine in them).” He smiled knowingly at the guests while pouring his wine into the three goblets in front of him. “A toast to Queen Katala and her consort, Tristian. May they find a lot of happiness in their marriage.”

Everyone raised their wineskins in a toast. Tristian and Katala clicked goblets with the priest and each other before drinking down their wine. Tristian had only just put down his goblet when Katala picked him up and kissed him hard on the mouth. Tristian gasped, but quickly tried to match her passion, wrapping his arms around her and holding himself close to her.

When they pulled back, he was completely breathless. “My wife,” he whispered.

She smiled and winked at him before setting him down.

“Before we get to the drinking and celebrations, I hope you can stand on ceremony for a few moments,” she said. A servant walked into the temple and approached them. He had something in his hands, but Tristian didn’t know what it was.

“I took the liberty of having another crown made,” she continued. She lifted it from its cushion and placed it gently on Tristian’s head. “Will you serve my people with the same diligence that you have served me?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Tristian. “I swear to ever remain a servant of the people. I will work with you to protect and take care of your subjects as long as I remain here.”

“Then come with me, my prince. Let’s face our fate together.”

***

The festival was held right outside the capital. A huge crowd flocked to the numerous large tents and merchant stalls. Wine and mead poured freely from the kegs, and music filled the air. Children ran through the grass, eager to get to the games and shows. Kobolds and goblins set up their own ramshackle stalls, attracting the curious, if wary. The Tiger Lords had set up a fighting ring, and many people started signing up and taking bets.

Katala and Tristian had to greet many people. Diplomats and nobles from all over Avistan, as well as her vassals, came to see them. A tourney was held in their honor. Katala even managed to slip into her armor and destroy the competition (but not before getting a ribbon from her new husband).

As the evening came, Katala danced with Tristian. There wasn’t any form to it, just her and him moving to the music beneath the darkening sky until the deva was out of breath.

“Tired?” she asked.

“A little,” he said as he sat on a nearby bench. “I just need to catch my breath.”

She kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll get you a drink.”

When she went to fill their cups, she spotted Calder off to the side, drinking by himself. She remembered Snorri’s request, but did she really want her fathers living in Tuxony? She approached him.

“Hey,” she said.

Calder smiled. “It was a good wedding. I hope he makes you happy.”

“Thanks.” She sat next to him. “I hope you’re having a good time.”

“I am, thank you,” said the druid. They hadn’t really talked about what happened at the dinner his first night here. He and Snorri had been content to blame it on too much drink.

An uncomfortable pause passed between them. “So, how do you like my kingdom?” she asked. “A lot of people from Brevoy have settled here.”

“You did well,” he said cautiously.

“Have you thought about moving down here? There are lots of forests and marshes. We even have our own druid community.”

“Has Snorri been talking to you?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

Calder sighed. “We’ll be fine. The enclave has endured for years. We don’t need any help.”

“Well, did you ever think that maybe it’s not about that, hm? What if I just want to have my family close?”

Calder raised an eyebrow.

Katala sighed. “Okay, maybe I’m still not okay with what you did, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t ever want to see you again.”

Calder swished his ale around in his cup. “We’ll see what happens. If fate dictates that we move, then we will move. In the meantime, there is no need to go looking for problems.”

***

Fortunately, Tristian was not too tired for his wedding night. The queen and her consort made love between the new sheets that the servants had replaced. The whole room was covered in flowers by the time Katala and Tristian returned home.

Tristian relaxed into her chest, breathing heavily.

“I…I hope that the wedding has been to your liking, my Queen.”

“I loved it! I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my life. Thank you.”

He kissed her tenderly on the mouth. “I love you so much. Thank you so much for pledging the rest of your life with me. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make it a good life.”

“Same here,” said Katala. “I want you to go back home with many good memories.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcome. Even critical ones!


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